Upon this Earth
by Moringotho-in-Angamando
Summary: The Ainur during the Great Song and after...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Please leave me a note on how you liked (or did not like) it, and what else I should write!

Written from the POV of Manwe.

* * *

The Theme of Eru was overpowering. In it flowed a beauty that I could not comprehend, could not understand. I could catch the sorrow and the joy, the peace and the turmoil, the highs and the lows, the splendour and the beauty… but I could not catch a single phrase, not even a single note. I could not think of anything that I or any of my peers could create that would equal to such great, such overpowering beauty.

But as soon as Eru commanded us to make a Great Music, I realised that it would be possible. I did not yet know how, but an idea formed in my head. A music of great grandeur, made of splendour, of valour, of strength. And slowly, hesitantly, I voiced it.

The only sound of Ea for those moments was my voice, going from ups to downs, from barely heard hints of music to a loud yet melodic song, rising and rising in its splendour until I no longer thought about the music: I was the music.

And then slowly a voice joined me. Some faraway part of my mind that was not yet the Music recognized it as the voice of one of the other Spirits who sang with me before… for a short time, my voice and hers flowed together in a mellifluous beauty, and I found that our minds touched and sang as one without conscious thought. And then I heard another voice join ours, and another, and a dozen more.

And then a Great Music played around me, created by me and yet not by me. I recognized it, and it took over my entire being, except for one part. And that one part listened to that one voice that joined me in the beginning of all. Varda, I realised. Her name was Varda.

And for a long while Varda and I sang amidst the others, and there was a peace upon our minds, and I knew that there was a bond between us that I did not have with the others, and the thought of that bond filled my mind with warmth. And all was well, until Varda's voice trembled on a note.

It was only a minute's tremble, and none of my peers noticed it save the two of us. Yet I knew then that something was off. That the voice of Varda would not tremble for no reason. And then I heard it.

There was a disturbance in the music. Just a hint of it at first, and even as I listened that disturbance grew stronger and stronger, and the great music turned into a storm, a disaster filled with undeniable power. I fell silent, uncomprehending. I could not sing in this music, this mess that was altogether wrong and that I could not understand. And by my side, Varda also fell silent.

Yet around us the storm raged, until it seemed that some madness was upon all of us, and I could bear it no longer. Even as I began to think of how exactly to stop this, to make it go back to the mellifluous harmony, Eru rose his hand. His figure was filled with majesty and I heard somewhere far away another theme form. A theme developed once again, but it was different… I shall never be able to describe the difference in words of any tongue, but never shall I confuse the two, for they are endlessly different while being the same.

And again there was a harmony, and again Varda and I sang together, and several more Spirits made their ways into our minds. At hearing their voices and their tunes, my mind assigned names to them. Yavanna, Aule, Orome, Tulkas, Ulmo, Nienna… Namo, Irmo, Nessa, Vaire, Vana, Este… Melkor.

And as soon as I heard the voice of Melkor, again I felt an unrest arise. The theme was disturbed by something alien, something unfitting, and that something grew and increased in strength until it was as bad as last time, if not worse. And again Eru rose his hand, though this time there was no smile gracing his face. And again a song broke out, though I could not tell where.

More names then came into my mind. Mairon, Tilion, Osse, Arien… there were countless more, but before I could acquaint myself with them, a third disturbance rose, worse than the previous ones, great and powerful, yet in a wrong way. And this time, Eru rose with anger on his face, and his words to Melkor my brother sent a chill through me. This would not end well.

* * *

I sat upon my throne, with Varda my wife at my side. She had taken a form lovely to look upon today, but my attention was fixed elsewhere.

I looked over the desolate lands far away. I thought of all the things that were now ruined. Of all the plans we had for the Children of Eru, the Elves and the Men. I saw the vapor rise over deep pits, and the mountains rise high above the ground. I sighed, glancing at Varda.

"I hear the groans of the earth, and the sound of the winds, out of your control, racing over dried-out plains. I hear the sound of water flooding into forests and marshes." Varda's thoughts flowed into my mind as if they were my own, and I opened my mind to her in return. Telling her about the snow on top of the mountains, nearly as high as the one that we sat on yet nowhere near as liveable. Of the fires ravaging the lands, and of the ridges cut into the earth.

My hand found hers, and held on to it gently as we looked into this new world, hoping against hope that my brother has not ruined everything irrevocably.

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A/N: So what did you think? Should I do a follow-up? Should I quit writing altogether? Any thoughts are precious to me and make my day!


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: This is around the time of the first few chapters of the Quenta Silmarillion. Enjoy, and please tell me what you thought!_

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The Elves had awoken.

After long years of anticipation and of labour, the Elves had awoken. And it warmed my heart to think that the first things they saw were the stars, the works of Varda. I knew that many of them, if not all, would always love my beautiful Valie.

The one problem was, we did not surely know where they awoke. And it seemed only right that they should follow their own hearts and make their way here if they so wished, so we did not make any attempts to seek them. Nevertheless, the trips of us and of our people to the Middle-earth, where the Children awoke, became more frequent, and we would take on a guise fair and wonderful. We all anticipated the moment when finally we could lay our eyes on the Children.

We wondered for that time about what they would be like: for we had seen in the Vision their general shapes, as if clouded by a mist, but did not know much more. We wondered about all the aspects of the body, mind, and spirit that we could come up with. Would they be tall or short? Would their skin and hair be light or dark? Would they have weapons by the time we met them, and what would such weapons look like? Who would they be used against? Would they love the earth or the sea or the sky?

It was only after many years that finally we got tidings of them - for Varda and I did not wish to intrude upon the lives of the Children, and would not turn our minds to those lands. As I sat upon Mahanaxar, listening to the singing of Varda and Yavanna, their duet mixed with the sound of hoofbeats. At first they were barely audible, but then they grew louder and louder, until both Valier fell silent and looked at me, and then at the door. I followed their line of sight, and saw Oromë walk in.

The Rider's appearance spoke of a long journey done in haste: his hair, which was golden today, was disheveled, and his face was slightly red from the ride. I heard the neighing of Nahar as some of the Maiar took care of him.

Oromë looked then at me, and his eyes were brighter than usual, filled with excitement. "The Children!" he spoke, and I could not tell if his lips moved or if it was his mind that sent the signal. "I saw them, and spoke to them!"

I had known that this would happen, and happen soon, but still I knew not what to do. "Call the counsel," I ordered, trying to regain my composure. This was a big event, I had to focus and lead my people through it.

"Already done," Oromë answered curtly. And indeed the other Ainur now started to come into the counsel. Some walked in, and others materialized before my eyes. I saw them all take their seats: the Valar and Valier in a circle in the middle, and the Maiar in rows behind them, and Oromë in the middle of the Ring of Doom, ready to tell us his great news.

I saw Aule materialize in a corner and kiss Yavanna's hand before sitting next to her, to the left of me. Ulmo then appeared, for the importance of the matter, though he rarely did so nowadays. Even in the time of the Music, he was different from the rest of us, and preferred to be alone, deep in thought. Several of his people sat behind him, also in deep silence, and I tried in vain to remember their names. Something beginning with a vowel - was it O, or U?

I looked back to the rest of the council. I noted that many of the seats were empty. I tried to recount the names but they seemed to elude my memory. I felt a surge of anger, because I knew why they were gone. Who stole them from us, who turned them against us. I wondered how many of them regretted their choice, just a second before realising that I couldn't care less. They were enemies now, all of them.

Even as I forced to let go of the thought, to get myself back on topic, my eyes skidded over to Osse sitting behind Ulmo. His face was neutral, but I could see in his eyes the shame that still followed him everywhere he went. I wondered for a moment how it must feel to betray not once, but twice. To have one's peers look at one with suspicion and fear. I wondered how long it would take for Osse to be accepted once more.

Then I looked back at Orome. He stood in the middle of the ring, tall and lordly, his face still a little red from the ride. His bright eyes skimmed over each of us in turn, until they came to me. I gave him a nod, and his loud yet harmonic voice said the words that would mean so much to every person present.

"The Children have come!"

I saw the members of the council react and could not help but smile. I saw the eyes of some widen in surprise, or grow bright with anticipation, or burn in anticipation. And as Orome took a deep breath, I got prepared to hear a story that would determine the future for many years to come.

* * *

Orome's tale was long, and I did not know whether to be happy or sad, angry or relieved, terrified or glad by the time it was over. Our search was over, but the results were not what we expected. We did not expect that the Children would cower in fear in front of Orome, and refuse to come out to him. We did not expect that only a few would dare come out and speak, and that even those would be ready to spring back any moment. We did not expect to be rejected by so many. We did not expect that they would look at us with such unwelcoming expressions on their faces. We did not expect that they would all be so different yet so similar to each other, and to us.

We did not expect the love Orome saw between many of them. We did not expect to see organized settlements, or weapons, no matter how simple, in their hands.

* * *

The day after the council, Orome left again to see the Children. He took with him but a few of his folk, and left for amounts of time that seemed incredibly long, returning rarely and speaking his news briefly. And with each time we realised all the more what a great marring Melkor has wrought upon Arda.

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 _A/N: sorry for the long wait! So what do you think? Should I continue, and with what? Should I drop this, given its horror?_


End file.
